left, that the Prince was
almost awed by her stateliness, and felt more than ever like a boy in a
bad scrape. Corona bowed rather coldly, but extended her hand, which the
old gentleman raised to his lips respectfully, in the manner of the old
school.

"I trust you are not exhausted after the ball?" he began, not knowing
what to say.

"Not in the least. We did not stay late," replied Corona, secretly
wondering why he had come.

"It was really magnificent," he answered. "There has been no such ball
for years. Very unfortunate that it should have terminated in such an
unpleasant way," he added, making a bold dash at the subject of which he
wished to speak.

"Very. You did a bad morning's work," said the Duchessa, severely. "I
wonder that you should speak of it."

"No one speaks of anything else," returned the Prince, apologetically.
"Besides, I do not see what was to be done."

"You should have stopped it," answered Corona, her dark eyes gleaming
with righteous indignation. "You should have prevented it at any price,
if not in the name of religion, which forbids it as a crime, at least in
the name of decency--as being Don Giovanni's father."

"You speak strong words, Duchessa," said the Prince, evidently annoyed at
her tone.

"If I speak strongly, it is because I think you acted shamefully in
permitting this disgraceful butchery."

Saracinesca suddenly lost his temper, as he frequently did.

"Madam," he said, "it is certainly not for you to accuse me of crime,
lack of decency, and what you are pleased to call disgraceful butchery,
seeing who was the probable cause of the honourable encounter which you
characterise in such tasteful language."

"Honourable indeed!" said Corona, very scornfully. "Let that pass. Who,
pray, is more to blame than you? Who is the probable cause?"

"Need I tell you?" asked the old man, fixing his flashing eyes upon her.

"What do you mean?" inquired Corona, turning white, and her voice
trembling between her anger and her emotion.

"I may be wrong," said the Prince, "but I believe I am right. I believe
the duel was fought on your account."

"On my account!" repeated Corona, half rising from her chair in her
indignation. Then she sank back again, and added, very coldly, "If you
have come here to insult me, Prince, I will send for my husband."

"I beg your pardon, Duchessa," said old Saracinesca. "It is very far from
my intention to insult you."

"And who has told you this abom